


When Things Were(n’t) Better

by what_hasnt_been_taken_yet



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, idk what im doing anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_hasnt_been_taken_yet/pseuds/what_hasnt_been_taken_yet
Summary: Will Byers had never had an easy life- from an abusive father to unimaginable, otherworldly horrors, he’s scarcely found a moment of peace.But now he has unrequited love to deal with, and that’s somehow the worst thing by far.





	1. Wanting and Wishing

Will Byers had never had an easy life. Sure, it had its better qualities- an ever-supportive mom, a best friend for a brother, and a group of D&D-loving doofuses- but all in all, the shape of his life had been curving towards the negative. He had spent his childhood trying to hide from an alcoholic, abusive father, his adolescence battling bullies and, later, unimaginably dark horrors no thirteen year old should have to face.

Now, in his high school years... well... it had been rough. He had thought, after defeating the Mind Flayer, that his life would go upwards, because surely there couldn’t be anything worse than an inter-dimensional conqueror of worlds. Surely no other threat could come up that would be more insurmountable than the Upside-Down.

But, like always, Will would find there was always something worse waiting for him. That’s just what fate had deigned to give him- endless misery and torture. Punishment.

But for what? he thought, fruitlessly, because what could a teenager have possibly done to piss off the universe so thoroughly? He didn’t think he’d ever figure that part out.

“Will, sweetie, are you up?” Joyce Byers’ worried voice drifted through his bedroom door. Will could barely remember a time when his mom didn’t sound worried- it didn’t go away even after 3 demogorgon-free years.

“Yeah, Mom!” he called, before pushing himself into a sitting position on his bed. Another day, off to the slaughterhouse that was high school. He had to put on a bright facade for his mom, and for Jonathan, and for his friends. He’d had to learn how to hide his emotions these past years, if only to get everyone off his back, to stop the worried glances. “I’m fine,” he’d tell them, and then, when a worried glance came his way, more forcefully. “Really, I’m fine, guys.” He’d made sure those worried glances subsided, until it was really only his mom, and occasionally Jonathan, when he was home from college.

And, of course, Mike. But Will didn’t like to think about that- couldn’t think about that. He shook his head, as if to physically dispel any thought of his best friend, and methodically got ready for the day. He had to go into autopilot, to truly force his mind to think, as he put his jeans on one god damn leg at a time- left leg, right leg, pull up, zip up, button. It was excruciating to think through it, but it was better than letting his mind wander.

Though Will put on this facade of being fine, this extra layer of protection from the world, he was still about as timid and fragile as he’d been his entire life, and thinking too much would shatter him.

He entered the kitchen, his mom having already made his breakfast- cereal, as usual for a family whose money was tight, especially after sending one kid to a fancy film school, scholarships be damned- and lunch. He felt kind of childish, with his mom still making meals for him, when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. He was a junior, sixteen years old now. He enjoyed the gesture, but after everything she’d gone through, going out of her mind trying to keep him safe, she deserved a break.

“Hey, sweetie. Did you sleep alright?” It was an old habit, really, asking if he’d had any nightmares this time. Of course he had- he’d hardly had any dream-less nights after everything that had happened to him- but he’d slowly stopped telling her about them, like everything in his life. It was his problem to worry about now, not his mom’s or anyone else’s. He knew she’d told him to trust her with this stuff so long ago, but it was more of a responsibility thing at this point. He could handle this on his own.

“Yeah, mom,” he muttered, then, brightening his tone, “I slept fine.”

“Okay, Will. I gotta go to work, but here’s your lunch, baby. Have a good day at school.” She kisses his forehead lightly, before heading out the door, shooting him one of those worried looks he’d been working so hard to get rid of. When she’s gone, he sighs, plopping down at the kitchen table and picking at his cereal noncommittally.

He was still trying to recover. It had been three years, and he could still see the Upside-Down when he closed his eyes, when he was biking along the edge of the woods, when he looked at the friends he’d thought he would die without seeing again. The rotting, freezing darkness creeped at the edges of his vision, a lasting deterioration of his life. He should be able to have fun with his friends, let loose, be a teenager, but all he could focus on was the impending doom that tightened a hold around his mind. He should have gotten better.

He dumps what remains of his soggy cereal in the sink, grabs his backpack, and heads out the door, breathing in the clean November air- not the musty, contagious air of the Upside-Down. This normalcy grounded him, and the terror in his head subsided, and he could get on his bike and head towards school. Old habits die hard, he supposed. Whether the habit was as simple as riding a bike to school or as complicated as otherworldly nightmares.

Out of his friends, El seemed to be the only one who really understood what Will had been through. She knew the Upside-Down, had closed the gate between that dark realm and their own. She was quiet, but attentive, and could see that Will was not as fine as he proclaimed, but she would stay out of it if that’s what he wanted her to do. She knew what it felt like to have that horrible darkness live inside her head.

And yet, she’d recovered. She found a comfortable spot in the “party”, as they still called it, and eventually began to lead a semi-normal life. She’d even dated, starting with Mike, though that had eventually fallen apart. It was clear they’d only really been good at being friends with each other, not romantic partners, so friends they stayed.

Will couldn’t fathom how to return to even a semblance of normal, though when had he ever truly experienced normal? Surely life with Lonnie hadn’t been normal, nor the fatherless years after that, or the years of being bullied. Will Byers didn’t accept that as normal, couldn’t accept that as the best that life could offer him.

Aside from El was Will’s best friend, Mike. Mike was closest to Will, could understand him inside and out without ever communing with an unimaginable nightmare. But, lately, Will could barely stand being with Mike. Something had irrevocably changed between them, or had been in the process of changing for a long time, and it made being with Mike nearly unbearable. Will avoided him when he could, without making it too obvious- he still hung out with the party, but almost always found an excuse to not be alone with Mike. He’d hardened his facade, to the point where not even Mike could understand him anymore. It was hard, feeling disconnected from his best friend, but Will could bear it better than he could bear being too close to Mike.

Will acted distant with his group of friends, but they never kicked him out, continuing to accept him even as he pulled away. He was a vital member of the party, and, more importantly, their friend, and they’d already gone to the ends of the Earth to save him- why stop there?

 

Will arrived at Hawkins High School, locking his bike up next to a familiar one. Once they’d hit sixteen, most of the party had started driving to school, or carpooling. Lucas was the only one who still biked- he likes to hold on to the ritual of their lives. Will had declined anyone’s offer of a ride, as this, biking to school, was another thing he could be responsible for. Something in his broken life he could control. He guessed Lucas maybe felt the same way.

“Will!” A voice that was undeniably Dustin’s made Will turn around, heading towards the party’s usual meeting place in the morning- under an oak tree near the front of the school. He forced a smile for his friends- they were happy to see him, like always, so he was happy to see them. Nothing was wrong.

“What’s up?” Will asked, looking over his friends. Lucas, leaning against the tree, one arm slung over Max’s shoulders, a smile of relaxed content on his face; Max, arms crossed, a look on her face saying she was ready to take on the world; Dustin, undeniably cool after years of lessons from Steve, but still wearing a lovably goofy grin; Jane- sometimes still El to them- stoic as usual, lobbing a rock into the air, no doubt using her powers subtly despite various warnings from Hopper; and Mike, taller than anyone had any right to be, a tentative grin on his face as he notices his best friend approaching, despite their ongoing rough patch. Will’s gaze darts away from Mike’s quickly, because the intensity held within those deep, dark eyes was too much for Will now.

Dustin is the first to reply. “The usual. We were trying to get Max to talk about her campaign, but she won’t spill.” He narrowed his eyes at Max, who was running her own campaign for the first time, starting next week. Dustin then closed his eyes completely and wiggled his fingers at Max, exclaiming, “I cast... Detect Thoughts!” No matter how cool he may seem, he was still a complete nerd.

Max rolled her eyes and scoffed, though her smile only widened. “Yeah, like that’s gonna work. You aren’t a wizard and this isn’t a Dungeons and Whatever game.” Will could contest that. He had lived that game- they all had- facing down horrors that they’d given familiar names, straight from their beloved game- demogorgons and demo-dogs and the mind flayer. They had survived through that game, putting labels on the demons to bring method to the madness. But he kept these thoughts to himself, kept silent through the playful banter he had started.

“But I am the mage,” El declared, in that matter-of-fact way she had. Her pebble stopped mid-air for a second before dropping back in her palm. “Here and in the game.”

“You still can’t ‘detect thoughts’,” Max replied, before her face scrunched up in a question. “Shit. Wait. Can you?”

El smiled mysteriously before dropping the act and saying, “Not really.”

“You gotta tell us something, Max!” Dustin begged, eyes wide. “Just some small little detail!”

Max laughed. “I don’t get to usually hold this much power over you, Henderson. I’m going to revel in it.”

“Says the girl I had a crush on for a year,” Dustin retorted. He had long gotten over Max’s rejection of him and had moved on to dating other girls. Must be fun, getting to date, Will thought morosely. He slid his gaze back to Mike, who had also taken a backseat to the banter. He was smiling at his friends, but it looked strained, his face pale and drawn. He must have felt the pressure of Will’s eyes, because he looked back at him, and his smile widened. Will looked down, cursing himself as his heart swelled with undeserved hope.

“Listen, Dusty,” Lucas’ voice cut into Will’s thoughts, “she won’t even tell me, and I’m her boyfriend.” He squeezed Max’s shoulder lightly as she rolled her eyes again, before giving him a peck on the cheek.

“You guys’ll have to just wait till next week,” Max added, smirking.

The party moved on to other topics, before the first bell rung and they had to separate. Will was never sure if he was relieved or not to hear this bell- on one hand, he wouldn’t have to survive through the awkward pain that came when he was near his friends, and Mike in particular; on the other, he dreaded every day at school. Only one class helped him relax, and that was sixth period art class. It had a fancier title, but Will didn’t care, as long as he got to draw and paint and create. It was one of the few ways he could let his frustration and anxiety out, the emotions spilling onto the canvas and darkening every landscape with muddled purples, turning portraits into misery-stricken caricatures. His art teacher loved his work, though he seemed concerned about the dark tones it held.

In any case, he had five periods and lunch to slog through before that. Not to mention the minutes he had to spend walking the halls. Even after three years, whispers of “Zombie Boy” followed him through the halls, along with more recent, somewhat nastier names. There wasn’t much inventiveness to “The Faggot Freak”, but it was alliteration and it caught on like wildfire once Troy used it.

Will desperately wished, every single day, that his life had gone normal. That he hadn’t been captured and nearly killed multiple times by creatures from another realm. He wished it was all some endless nightmare that he’d wake up from to find himself back in his bed, four years ago, before any portal had opened up and let monsters through.

Wishing, however, was for fairies. And, despite what all the whispering teenagers seemed to think, Will was no fairy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading my debut on this lovely website, which of course had to be a byeler fic. feedback is appreciated, even negative feedback.


	2. All Your Enemies Are Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our poor, isolated Will goes through a day of school and goes through lot of shit and I hated writing this.
> 
> TW for bullying and implied sexual harrassmenf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m actually sorry for some of this chapter. I actually considered not posting it, because I can’t read it without hating it, but at this point it needs to happen to advance the plot.

Will sat morosely at lunch, munching quietly on the sandwich his mother had packed, watching his friends converse jovially. They had likely heard the whispers that followed him, the “queer” shadow that had followed him for about half a year now, once the heat on his near-death experience had died down and the bullies were forced to look for new ammo, though what they found was something they were much more used to. So far, none of his friends had commented on it, and they still acted normally around him, so either they didn’t buy into it or they didn’t care.

Either way, Will had tried to refuse to let it be a self-fulfilling prophecy, first uttered long ago by Lonnie. Though Will’s early years of verbal abuse may not have included a dictionary for some of the harsher words, it nevertheless stuck in his young, impressionable brain. And the words had come back with a vengeance, haunting him from his past. Just what he needed after the cataclysm that turned his life from unfortunate to indescribable.

Now that he understood the words, he could hear the truth ringing through in them. His refusal had failed, and he’d done the unthinkable, the unorthodox- he’d fallen for a boy. What was worse, he’d fallen for, and consequently lost, his best friend. Mike Wheeler was no longer someone Will could look at without feeling guilty, ill, sick of himself, disgusted in his own feelings. He knew his feelings were wrong, knew from Lonnie’s screams and Troy’s snickers that he was a dysfunctional human, but he couldn’t suppress his emotions. So he did what he could to see Mike less, and lost the closest friendship he had as it became a hollow shell of what it used to be.

It hurt, but Will could get used to it, like he got used to every other shitty thing in his life.

The bell rang, and Will methodically gathered his trash up, blithely unaware of the rest of the world until he nearly walked right into Mike, who was giving him a worried look. “Oh… sorry, Mike,” he stammered, before trying to edge around him.

“Did you not hear what I said?” Mike asked, exasperated, staying in front of him. Will couldn’t stand the worry in his eyes. He’d conditioned all of his friends to stop looking at him like that, but it had never stuck with Mike.

“What?”

Mike kept staring straight through him, making Will feel exceptionally uncomfortable. “When you were getting up, I said I wanted to talk to you. You must have been pretty spaced out.”

“You- uhm- want to talk?”

“Yeah, I do. I feel like-“ Mike sighed, looking down, biting his lip. “Like we never get to talk anymore.”

Will took a step back, hunching his shoulders, unintentionally taking a defensive stance. “We hang out all the time. At our D&D games, when the party meets at the arcade…” He trailed off.

“Yeah, but you almost never talk, and you definitely don’t talk to me. I want to hang out with just you. There’s something… something big going on that I want to tell you about.” Mike was sixteen- way too old to be crying in public- but his eyes were wet. He was deeply upset about something huge, that was for sure, but Will couldn’t see himself being able to console his best friend without his queer heart clenching and making him want to throw up, probably on the best friend.

“I gotta go to class,” Will said quietly, trying to move past Mike again. This time, Mike let him go, though he followed behind Will.

“Could you at least meet me after school? Just for five minutes? I just want-“ Mike’s voice broke off, and Will had to fight the temptation to stop walking, to turn around and face his friend, his crush, his secret. “I just want my friend back.”

Will kept walking, his head down, but he said in a half-whisper, trying to keep his tone neutral, “Fine. Five minutes. By the bike rack.” He then quickened his pace, practically running to his next class to shake off his best friend before the dam broke and all the words building up inside him for years came rushing out. That would flood his life with all his bottled-up negativity and anxiety, ruin a few lives, and probably kill him- if he was lucky.

At least he had art now, and could relax into his drawings. Forget the upcoming five-minute conversation he had agreed to. Dump bucketfuls of his anxiety out onto the page, relieve some of the stress on the dam walls. The teacher had gone on about some still-life project they were supposed to be doing, but Will was more or less ignoring him, drawing whatever he wanted- his teacher knew him well enough to not stop him, because Will would always get projects done on time whether he worked on them in class or not.

Will started absentmindedly sketching something out, his hand curving in a familiar arc, the line almost muscle memory to him now. Then he jerked his hand away, realizing it had been the sharp curve of Mike’s jaw materializing on the page. He scowled at his traitorous hand, before furiously erasing the line, then starting again, paying attention to himself, thinking, _Draw anything but him. Anything but the wide ovals of his eyes, the smattering of freckles sprinkled across his cheeks, the fullness of his-_ He shook his head, starting to sketch out his mother’s face instead. That was safe. That wouldn’t make him want to scream and rip up the paper and scatter the pieces.

He saved drawing Mike for when he was home, in his room, where no one could just peer over his shoulder and see just how many thousands of times he’s drawn his so-called “best friend”. He hated himself for doing it, but he couldn’t stop it, the feeling in his chest compelling his hand to keep going even as he dreaded seeing the face that appeared on the page. If artists go through phases, Will was going through his Mike phase, using every medium- aside from sculpture, that was going a little too far- to capture the one person he couldn’t have.

He looked down at the sketch of his mother, her sad, worried eyes made even sadder by Will’s own feelings. His mom, who cared so much for him, who loved him unconditionally, even if it meant risking her life. And what did he do to thank her? Lie to her constantly, hide his feelings, become as distant from her as he had become with all of the people who loved him. _It’s for the better,_ he tried to tell himself. _She deserves a break._ But he knew he was lying to himself, lying to everyone. He was so fucking selfish; he only hid his feelings so people would get off his back. He wasn’t doing it for them- it was always all for himself. Everything for Will. Because he deserves the world after what he’s been through, and everyone should just do what he wants, and-

HIs pencil snaps on the paper, and he flinches, his negative thoughts drifting away. For once, drawing was making things worse. He sighed, putting his head on the desk, not caring if pencil lead was getting smeared on his forehead. He’s sure his teacher is giving him a worried look, but he doesn’t give a damn.

He’d tried to stop letting his friends pity him, letting his mom coddle him, letting Mike worm his way into his thoughts. And he still felt the same as he’d felt ever since he woke up three years ago, finally rid of that otherworldly parasite. He was still miserable, still plagued by nightmares, still lovestruck by Mike. He was still himself, and he’d give anything, anything at all, to not be. To be someone with a caring father, someone who made more than three friends in school, who wasn’t dragged into a parallel nightmare universe, who wasn’t a queer. To be someone normal.

That’s all he wanted. Was it too much to ask for?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will was the first one to get to the bike rack once school was over, wanting to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. He busied himself with undoing the lock on his bike, not wanting to see Mike approach, or to distract himself from the tempting thought of just booking it, running away and hiding from this small problem. He was so very good at hiding.

He finished unlocking his bike, but there was still no sign of Mike. He was getting anxious, his fingers gripping the handlebars tight. ‘If he isn’t here after a minute, I’m gone,’ Will told himself, glancing around the quickly-emptying parking lot. There was a tight feeling in his chest, a sour taste in the back of his throat, and he thought he might throw up, but he wrote it off as nerves. The Upside-Down flickered into his vision, only making him feel worse.

He almost didn’t see Troy approaching, with how distracted he was by his upset stomach. He was trailed by James and a few other guys from his posse, and they were all sauntering up to Will, smirks on their faces. Will clenched his jaw; he may still be one of the smallest guys in his class, and the most picked on, but he’d fought actual demons. Most days he could shrug these guys off.

Still, he was even more tempted than before to just jump on his bike and get away.

“Well, what do we have here?” Troy drawled, stopping in front of Will, the barrier of his bike between them. “I didn’t believe in fairies before, but look what we’ve found.” This got him a few snickers. “We have the faggot fairy right in front of us.”

Will grit his teeth, fighting back tears. Why was he so god damn weak? “Leave me alone,” he said, his voice quiet. He’d learned not to give these assholes a reaction- that’s all they wanted.

Troy took a step closer to Will, leaning over the bike. “Oh, no, Byers. You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of us.”

James jumped in, his smirk growing. “Don’t you need to make a wish, queer? You do have a wand, right?” He raised his eyebrows, gesturing at his own crotch to really drive the point home.

“Good question, James,” Troy replied, though his own smirk was gone. He looked dead serious. “I’ve been wondering that myself. Do fairies even get wands?” He took another step forward, almost kicking the bike back.

Will felt himself shaking, from fear and anger and hatred. But his voice still came out soft, his determination absent, when he said, “Go away.”

“Why don’t we check?” James said, eager that his joke had gotten such good reception. “Do a little science experiment. I heard this fairy loves science.”

“Please,” Will almost whispered. Shit. It was never a good idea to say “please” in these situations, never a good idea to beg them for anything. But there it was, slipping out of his mouth naturally. “Just please go.”

“Yeah,” Troy said. “An experiment.” Quicker than Will can process, Troy grabs the bike and wrenches it from Will’s grip, throwing it violently to the side. Will staggers backwards, his support gone, and tries to run, cursing himself for not escaping sooner, but Troy grabs his wrist, pulling him closer. Suddenly he’s surrounded by Troy’s thugs, all of them leering at him, and one of them is trying to tug Will’s pants down.

Of course, Will chooses the worst time to start fighting back, kicking and struggling and even biting someone at one point, but he’s outnumbered, and he’s eventually pushed to the concrete ground, almost hitting his head on the pavement. One guy holds his arms down while another manages to get Will’s jeans pulled down to his knees. Will is thrashing, not caring anymore about the tears spilling down his face, and almost kicks Troy, who’s kneeling down next to him, in the stomach. Troy does the honors himself, grabbing Will’s boxers and almost ripping them off. At this point, Will has given up, because they got what they wanted. They had humiliated him completely and utterly.

James gave out a low whistle. “The fairy’s got a wand, alright. A pretty fucking pitiful one.”

Will’s ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood, of the laughter of the guys around him, of his sniffles. He hated himself. He hated this. He hated everything, everything, _everything_ , because everything seemed to hate him.

He didn’t hear anyone shout at the assholes standing above him, but they started running off, one of them aiming a kick at Will’s ribs for good measure before storming away, chortling the whole time. Will managed to pull his clothes back on, hastily, before his savior, late as they were, saw. He looked up as someone approached, kneeling down next to him, his posture completely different from the hostility that was in the set of Troy’s shoulders. Of course, Will recognized the person next to him.

“Will?” Mike asked, his hands hovering above his friend as if he wanted to touch him and help him up but didn’t know if he should. “Are you okay? Did those assholes hurt you? Shit, I’m sorry, I should have been here earlier, I-”

“Stop,” Will tried to sound commanding, but his voice came out in a whisper, strained and tired. He sat up, not looking at Mike, because he felt so fucking embarrassed. He couldn’t even protect himself, and his best friend had to come save the fucking day, when all Will wanted to do was punch someone- himself, Troy, maybe even Mike, who had the audacity to come here looking worried and not even understanding at _all_ that so many of Will’s problems stemmed from him, from liking his best friend and liking a _guy_ , and from feeling weak and useless, and from hating the pity and hating himself. Mike being here was not helping the situation in the slightest. Will wasn’t physically hurt, aside from a few places where they’d punched him to subdue him, and in his ribs, but he was hurt psychologically, his heart cut open and left bleeding in his chest, too many emotions to name rushing through him. He put his head in his hands, staring down at the pavement as more tears filled his eyes. _Fuck_.

“Will, please. What did they do? I’ll sick El on them, I swear to-”

“ _Enough_ , Mike. Stop.” Will stood up, his back to Mike, who was still kneeling on the ground. “I’m so fucking sick of this. Of everything. I’m sick of you.” He heard Mike’s soft intake of breath, and turned around, staring at his friend, who looked so hurt by that one comment, but Will had to keep going, or he’d never get these words out, and they’d fester in him and become something so much worse. “I’m sick of your worry and your pity, the way everyone walks around me like I might break if they breathe on me wrong. I’m not broken, and I’m not about to fucking break.” That was mostly a lie, but he kept going. “I’m so tired of it all, of feeling like I can never live a normal life because even my friends treat me like I’m made out of glass, like I’m not even human!” Mike stared up at him, frozen in place, too shocked to say anything. This was the most he’d heard from Will in probably a year. “And you come up to me, acting like you have some huge fucking problem, and you don’t even get that I have so many more fucked up problems than you, Michael Wheeler. I’m dealing with so much _shit_ , and I can’t even talk to people about it without them _freaking out_ , so all my problems just stay in my head and make me feel so much more like a freak, and-” His voice broke, his breath hitching as he cried through his words. “And I want to just disappear, to die sometimes, because I always get all of the world’s shit. It’s out to fucking get me, and I can’t even tell anyone about it.” He stops, breathing hard, his cheeks wet with tears. He was drowning in them.

Mike finally finds his voice, and he croaks out, “Will, I-”

“And you fucking tell me to wait for you, so you can have _five minutes_ to tell me about whatever thing you’re going through, and you can’t even come on time because these things aren’t that important to you, while it’s all I can fucking _think_ about, and I get ganged up on because you couldn’t even bother to be here, and I get absolutely _humiliated_ , but it’s just another one of those problems I just can’t ever talk about.”

“Will, please-” Mike rises up, almost gracefully, putting his arms out, hoping in some way to calm Will down, but Will takes a step away, his hands clenched.

“And then of course you have the balls to come in at the very last second and save my ass, because I was too weak to save myself, and you just have to be the hero and try to sweep enough of me up to put little glass Will back together with some glue. Well, guess what?” He doesn’t care who’s staring at them, who’s listening as they have their first actual fight. “You can’t fix me. That’s something only I can do.” Will turned away, pulling his bike off the ground. He was done, his energy spent, and he was just going to curl up in Castle Byers and sob until he died.

Mike placed a hand on Will’s arm, causing Will to tense up. “ _Listen_ to me, please-“

Will pulled his arm away, staring into the ground like it held all the answers. The ground stared back condescendingly, mocking Will with everything he wished he had. Stupid fucking ground. “Mike. Just go away. I want… to be alone. Forever.” He didn’t. He wanted, more than anything, for Mike to hug him until the pain went away, until all that was left in the world was him and Mike. And he hated that he wanted that, so of course he wouldn’t let himself have that, even though Mike was _right there_ , and would probably hug him if Will let him.

But he wouldn’t. Will jumped on his bike, wiping at his tearstained face one more time, and kept his eyes on the street ahead of him as he pedaled away, leaving Mike Wheeler standing confused, hurt, and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I’m sorry. I promise things get better for Will.  
> Don’t expect updates to be this frequent. It’ll be about a week until the next one, and I’ll try to stay on a semi-consistent schedule after that, if possible. Feedback is appreciated, and thanks to everyone who’s left such nice comments so far.


	3. Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike takes it upon himself to fix his friendship with Will before it completely crumbles.

Mike had gone through most of school that day in a blurry haze, the periods passing faster than they should. He wasn’t usually so absent-minded at school; it mostly had to do with the decision he’d made that morning, when he’d seen Will, quiet and avoidant, like he was every morning, but something about today made Mike realize just how much their friendship had changed, had broken apart, had been breaking for years. So of course, he’d decided to confront Will about it, one-on-one, because if Mike Wheeler wasn’t confrontational, then who was?

Lunch had been the only clear moment to him, because he kept stealing glances at Will, still silent, staring down at his lunch, closing himself off. And, once lunch was over, Mike had to actually bump into Will to pull him out of his reverie and beg him for just five minutes. The hurt he’d suppressed in the past year, hurt he hadn’t even noticed was there until now, hit him all at once, and he was struck by how profoundly debilitating the loss of Will was. He almost started crying, in the middle of the _school cafeteria._ And Will could barely look at him. Had Mike done something wrong? Why had his best friend been giving him a cold shoulder for so long?

Mike had dashed out of his last class as soon as the bell began ringing, trying to quickly gather his stuff from his locker and get to the bike rack. He had been closing his locker, turning towards the front doors of the school, when someone touched his shoulder and asked, “In a rush?”

Mike glanced back to find Jennifer Hayes giving him a curious look. He had been assigned a project with her in his English class. “Kinda,” he replied, politely pulling away. “Maybe we can work on that project tomorrow after school?”

“I can’t tomorrow. Are you sure you aren’t busy right now?” She was smiling, turning on the charm. Mike had no idea why. They were doing a school project, not hooking up.

“I have something to do. I’m really sorry.” He turned around, starting towards the door.

She kept pace, following him. “That’s too bad. I was hoping I could talk to you, too. About Will.”

Mike stopped in his tracks. “What about Will?”

“Well, he’s your best friend, right?” She was smiling shyly at him. “He’s in art with me, and I think his work is fantastic. I was hoping I could talk to him, maybe get some tips?”

He opted not to answer her first question,turning to face her, the epitome of polite. “I’m sure he’d love to, but not today. He’s busy, too. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

They were almost outside, his back to the door. She glanced around Mike’s form- he was too tall to look over his shoulder- and peered outside quickly, before looking back. “That sounds great. See ya, Mike.” She disappeared through the doors quicker than Mike could respond. He stared after her, a little stunned by the sudden end of the conversation, before refocusing on his task- talking to Will.

He pushed through the front doors, glancing around the exterior of the school. Jennifer was nowhere to be seen, nor was Will. He did, however, see the bike rack. And a huddle of guys near the bike rack, a few of which he recognized as Troy’s friends.

And a bike, discarded on the ground. A familiar bike. Mike’s stomach dropped, weighed down by dread. That was Will’s bike.

“No,” he whispered, before almost shouting it, getting the attention of some of the group. “No!” He rushed towards the group, his dread rising up again in rage. He hadn’t grown much strength-wise the past few years, but his height made up for it- a few inches taller than most people, a head taller than Will- and he could intimidate people when he wanted to. It also helped that he’d climbed enough rungs on the social status ladder- Dustin’s ‘cool’ look, plus Mike’s loss of baby fat, had helped pull the whole party up a little bit, and it meant these guys might not try to pummel him.

“Leave him the fuck alone!” he yelled, causing a few guys, who were watching giant guy bearing down on them, to turn tail, even though they easily outnumbered him. Mike bulled into another guy, tackling him with a force he didn’t know he possessed. This caused most of the other guys to scram as well. He rolled off of the guy he’d tackled, who scrambled up and away. Mike pushed himself off the ground, standing back up and taking an offensive stance, watching as the last of the group ran away, snickering as they did so.

Mike turned his attention to what the group had been so occupied with- Will, curled up on himself, lying on the ground. Mike’s heart broke as he knelt down next to his friend, who didn’t look bloody or hurt, but whose clothes and hair were disheveled, his fragile frame shaking, his face wet with tears. _Shit_. This was Mike’s fault; he should have been there sooner, should have protected his friend. He put his hands out, but he was afraid to touch him and startle him, or hurt him. “Will?”

And that’s when Will blew up at him. Mike couldn’t do much other than listen, shocked, as Will spoke more in a few minutes than he had in the past year or so. And the words were so full of emotion, so _hateful_ , that it threw Mike for a loop. This was Will Byers, one of the sweetest guys he knew, letting out so much anger, so much hatred for himself and for Mike and for the world. Mike wished he had known sooner, to prevent this from happening, because he could tell Will had been holding this in for a long time.

_No wonder he’s always so distant. I’m a horrible friend._

Will had finished with, “I want… to be alone. Forever,” hopping on his bike and riding away, leaving Mike staring after him, desolation clear on his face.

It took him a minute of contemplation to realize that Will didn’t need to spend more time shutting himself off. Whether he wanted to be alone or not, it wasn’t what he needed. He needed a friend.

And Mike wanted to believe he was a damn good friend, though the past few minutes proved otherwise.

He turned towards the parking lot, finding his car, glad that no one in the party had needed a ride home today. He knew exactly where Will would go, knew what his safe spot had been since he was ten, when he’d spent a day with his brother building it in the rain. If Will was anywhere, he was at Castle Byers.

He also knew that he would pass up Will, what with the car and all, and if Will recognized Mike’s car driving to the same place he was headed, he would probably hide someplace else. So Mike waited, turning up the radio in his car to whatever popular station his friends had left it on, waiting for four minutes to pass by- because of course he knew how long it took to bike from school to Will’s house, or to any of the party’s homes- before backing out of the parking space and heading after Will.

Whether Will thought he was broken or not, and whether he thought he could fix things himself or not, Mike was going to help Will by any means necessary. _Leave no friend behind._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

As Will biked towards his house, and the forest beyond his house, the world began to flicker in and out of the Upside-Down. It was probably unsafe to continue biking as reality unwound itself around him, but if the universe decided to have him run blindly into a car, well, that’d just be another tragedy on the long list that made up his life. His breath quickened, the already cold November air around him becoming colder, and he could tell he was at the start of a panic attack.

Ever since his week of being possessed, ice ran through his veins and lived in his bones. He never felt warm, even when he was biking through 90 degree weather. That unnatural chill inside of him, the small part that still belonged to the Upside-Down, reacted fondly to the perceived change of scenery, though the rest of Will was strongly opposed to it. Everything in him was in disagreement, and he was always on the wrong side.

He managed to get to his house in one piece, practically jumping off his bike and letting it fall to the driveway as he started towards the woods. His flashes into the shadow realm didn’t bother him at all now, because he could find his way to Castle Byers in both worlds, probably even blindfolded.

The safehaven had seen better days, battered by weather as it was. But it was still sturdy, and wouldn’t collapse on him. At least, he didn’t think it would. He was taller than he’d been at ten years old, though still the shortest kid his age, and Castle Byers almost hugged him, one friend greeting another, and Will gladly accepted it’s embrace, curling up on the worn blankets inside. He really started crying then, in the privacy the woods provided, heaving sobs that soaked into his sweater and the blanket below. Sobs that made his gut hurt, that pulled his insides out and left him hollow and shaking. It felt awful in a perfect sort of way. He screamed into the blankets and punched the ground a few times, taking all his frustration out on inanimate objects. So what if his knuckles started bleeding? It was the least of his worries, really.

When he heard the crunching of leaves outside, he wasn’t surprised, not really. He should have expected that Mike would know where he went, that he wouldn’t just leave him alone. Will wiped his face a little, making a solid resolution that he would _not_ talk to Mike, he would _not_ let him in. He wanted to be _alone_.

There was a soft knock on one of the support beams of the Castle, an even softer voice asking, “Will?” Will would recognize that voice anywhere, and even with his mind made up so thoroughly, he felt his heart soften.

Still, he said nothing.

“Will, please. I know you’re in there.”

He would say nothing.

“Whatever they did to you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I really-“ his voice broke, cracking like it hadn’t since he’d shot up two feet. “I really am.”

Will clenched his jaw. _Nothing._

He heard another crunch outside, then another knock on the beam, and Mike’s voice sounded lower to the ground, like he had sat down. “I really tried to get there on time. I should have been there to stop them. I was… distracted, by some dumb English project, and I stopped thinking about how important you are to me-“ Will tensed at this. _I’m important to_ him? “-for a minute. And I never should have let that happen. I should have protected my best friend.”

Will had to bite his tongue now, to keep himself from exploding at Mike again. _Protected? Best friend? Who does he think he is?_

Mike sighed. “I still want to talk to you about what happened between us, even if you don’t want to talk to me. I want to know where I messed up… besides today.”

Will found himself switching between wanting to hate Mike’s guts and wanting to hug him. He still didn’t want to talk, though.

“Will…” Mike was used to talking to someone that won’t answer, used to pulling out a walkie talkie and calling out to static, hoping El might respond. He wasn’t one to give up, stubborn as he was, enough to keep him trying every day. “I feel terrible, knowing you’re in there, probably feeling ten times worse than me, and that it’s probably my fault. Hell, everything that’s happened is probably my fault. I don’t… I don’t need you to forgive me. I just want to talk. Face-to-face. And I… promise, if you never want me to talk to you again, I won’t. Just give me this.” His voice was thick with intangible emotions.

Will could feel his heart breaking, his resolve going right along with it. He sighed, giving up his firm decision to _not talk_. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, crossing his arms across his skinny chest, and croaked out two words. “Come in.”

Mike huffed out a breath, a relief-filled release, and pulled away the sheet blocking the entrance. Castle Byers could barely fit all his gangly limbs along with Will, but he squeezed through, his eyes, red-rimmed and worried, but still determined, finding Will immediately. Will studied Mike’s devastated face. _If he looks that miserable, what do_ I _look like?_ He shook the thought from his mind, looking away from Mike. He had nowhere to hide, cornered in this small space, with only his best friend and the ground to look at.

“Are you… alright?” Mike asked, tentatively. “Is it okay if I-“

Will scowled, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. “No, I’m not alright.” No matter how harsh he tried to sound, it came out soft, vulnerable. He’d spent up all his harsh words earlier.

“Are you…” Mike had his hands up, so close to Will’s face, in the periphery of his vision. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Not physically.”

“Oh.” His hands dropped to his lap, and he too looked down dejectedly. “What’d they… do?”

“Does it matter?” Will bit his lip, trying to hold back more tears. “They did exactly what they wanted to. They humiliated me. It doesn’t matter how.”

Mike scooted closer. “It matters to me.”

Will folded into himself more. “I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, the whole school will know sooner or later.”

“We can stop them! I’ll send El after them-“

“Don’t.” Will looked up to see passion dying on Mike’s face. “El isn’t some dog you can just ‘sic’ on people. She could get in huge trouble for using her powers. And we can’t scare all of them into staying silent. Eventually, word will get out.”

Mike’s features turned hard, like he was trying to find another way to protect Will and would put himself on the line if he had to. “But-“

“Give it up, Mike. I learned to do that a long time ago.”

Mike frowned, looking as if he wanted to say something more, but he kept it in, opting to change the subject instead. Which was probably a bad move on his part, but there was only one way to find out at this point. “So… what happened… between us?”

Will tensed up, finding there weren’t a lot of subjects he wanted explored. “I don’t want to talk about that, either.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?” Mike was getting exasperated by Will’s refusal, but he still wasn’t going to give up. This was the closest he’d been to getting answers from Will in a long time.

“I didn’t want to talk in the first place,” Will muttered.

“Then listen.” Mike had inched even closer to Will, to the point that they could feel each other’s breath on their faces. “This- whatever happened between us- is about you and me, not anyone else. I deserve some answers, because this is as much my business as it is yours. I need to know.”

For just a moment, Will contemplated telling Mike. _You know how people call me queer? Well, It’s true. And, funny story, you won’t believe who I have feelings for._ He didn’t know how Mike would react, but he could guess- confusion, anger, disgust, pity, hate. If he really wanted Mike completely out of his life, it would be easy enough to just tell him, and have Mike never talk to him again. He’s surprised he didn’t think of that tactic sooner.

But no. He didn’t want to lose Mike as a friend forever, though he may have been pushing him away the past year. He didn’t want his best friend to hate him. So he bit his lip and shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

Mike all but exploded. “That’s not… fair!” He leaned away, his face scrunched up in disappointment and irrational anger. He hadn’t gotten much better at controlling his temper. “I know I did something wrong, and maybe you don’t want to hurt my feelings or anything, but I need to know what I did that made you hate me. I won’t get mad or anything. I just want to fix our friendship.”

“It’s not…” Will paused, thinking about his next words carefully. He couldn’t give away anything specific. “I don’t hate you, Mike.”

How could he possibly hate Mike Wheeler?

Mike blinked a few times, stunned by this simple answer. “You… you don’t?” He leaned forward unconsciously, a spark of hope in his eyes, quickly extinguished by confusion. “Then why have you barely talked to me in the past year?”

Will sighed. “If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t talked to much of anyone. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Well, that was only half true. If Mike had been a little less handsome, a little less kind, a little less Mike, then maybe Will wouldn’t something feel like something was pinching his heart, stomping his gut. “If anyone did something wrong, it was me.” That part was a hundred percent true.

Mike couldn’t wipe the shocked look off of his face if he wanted to. “What… what do you mean?” Will shook his head, and Mike got the hint that he had reached the limit of Will’s willingness to talk. “Okay… was this what you meant when you said you were... broken and that you needed to fix yourself?”

“I said I wasn’t broken,” Will said, scowling. “But… yeah. I need to fix things myself.”

“Well, whatever it is that’s wrong…” Mike paused, afraid he might hit something sensitive if he wasn’t careful. Which wires do you snip to defuse the bomb, and which ones blow up in your face? “It’s not going to get fixed if you don’t open up about it to someone.”

The soft sounds of the outside world- leaves whistling to the ground, birds calling to each other- filled the space between them as Will fell silent, frustrated by the delicacy of the situation. Revealing too much would give Mike everything he needed to know. “I don’t know… there’s no one I can tell.”

“Tell _me_.” At this point, it was a desperate ploy, and it would most likely backfire, but Mike had to try something. “You can trust me, Will. I have stuck by you through everything- Troy, the demogorgons, the mind flayer. Whatever’s happening this time, no matter how bad it is, I’ll still stick by you, because nothing could be as bad as the shadowrealm was.”

Will wanted to believe him. He wanted so badly to confess, get it over with, for better or worse. But when had he ever gotten what he wanted? “It’s not that easy,” he said instead, because it wasn’t. For him, it was a constant struggle, a balance between what he could and couldn’t do, want, say. He felt his bruised ribs, just another reminder that it would be better for him to stay invisible, to not draw attention to himself. Confirming the rumors about him as true would condemn him to a living hell. He would make so many enemies, and probably lose friends in the process. “I just… It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Another little lie. “I don’t trust anyone else. I don’t trust myself.” Those were a lot more true.

Mike sighed. “Fine.” He knew, for now, that he wouldn’t be getting any more information out of Will. He wasn’t giving up, per se, but he was pausing the campaign. He needed to exercise patience in this situation. “Can you at least promise to talk to me more? And everyone else in the party? It doesn’t have to be anything important. You could talk about art, for all I care.” Will coughed out a laugh, remembering a time long ago when he’d tried to explain his view on an Impressionist piece and had been met with dubious, confused stares. “Just… remember we’re your friends, and we’re here for you.”

Will kind of hated Mike for asking so much of him. It was too hard for him to keep saying no. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try.”

Mike beamed, and it fractured Will’s heart just the tiniest bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! things actually turned out okay in this chapter, and will probably mostly be okay after this. feedback has been lovely so far, and I can’t thank you guys enough.


	4. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike can’t stand assholes. Especially when a certain asshole bullies Will.

They ended up spending a few hours in Castle Byers, talking about mostly nothing, but at least they were talking. That’s what Mike kept telling himself, that hearing Will talk at all was more important than not knowing why he’d been silent for so long. He’d pushed this far, and if he had to rest before pushing more, that was fine.

It wasn’t until they heard the chirping of crickets outside, until they could barely see each other in the evening gloom, that they realized how late it was. They scrambled out of Castle Byers to be met with a glorious sunset, one Will would consider painting if he had the time. “Shit,” he muttered. “My mom’s probably worried out of my mind.”

Mike grinned, lightly shoving Will. “And she’s probably called Hopper at least fifty times.”

Will laughed weakly. “Closer to a hundred,” he shot back.

“No, only fifty. It doesn’t count if she’s calling to clarify their date night.”

“Gross. They aren’t even dating.”

“Yet.”

Mike had missed this easy banter so much, but he hadn’t realized just how much until he'd gotten it back again. It felt like the world had been slightly off, tilted too far on its axis, and someone had knocked it back into place. It felt like home.

He felt a silence grow between them, as he studied Will, who was too busy thinking about his mom and Hopper to notice Mike staring. In that moment, shakily laughing at Mike’s joke, Will looked most like himself, and it reminded Mike what his best friend really was- fragile, yes, but within that fragility an inner strength, a will to live that surpasses all the shitty things life has to offer him. Whatever he was going through, he could handle it for a little while longer, because he was far tougher than he looked.

“Will?”

Will stopped his laughing to look back at Mike, suddenly aware of the intense eye contact. Mike never dropped his gaze, not when it was trained on Will, even if the other boy grew uncomfortable and dropped his gaze, which he did now, retreating back into his shell. “Yeah?”

“I know we’re joking and all, but…” Mike cleared his throat. “Don’t go missing again, okay?”

Will looked back up, surprised. “I…” He stepped closer, his breath quickening. “I can’t control it, but… I hope I never do.”

Mike smiled, bittersweet, because he could still remember thinking his best friend was dead, or trapped in a hellish alternate dimension, or possessed by the Mind Flayer. “I hope so, too.”

This was the first time in a long time that Will had allowed someone to worry about him. What had changed in the past few hours that made it okay now?

They trudged back to the Byers’ house, meeting a predictably worried Joyce with sheepish grins. Joyce immediately hugged them both, before pulling away and scolding them for nearly giving her a heart attack.She forgave them quickly, though, because she couldn’t remember the last time Will and Mike had hung out alone.

It was only after Mike had left, though reluctantly, and Will had retreated to his room, probably to sleep , that Joyce called Hopper back to explain that no, _Will is home and he’s fine, you were right, I shouldn’t have been worried._

And, of course, she clarified once more that they would meet no later than 7 tomorrow night. Jim Hopper was horrendous at keeping track of time, even accidentally missing date nights now and again- Hawkins wasn’t so busy without paranormal activity, but there was always the occasional dispute between farmers for Hopper to delegate- so, as a joke, Joyce kept buying him watches and clocks as presents. Jane, or Eleven- she only ever used her old name with her friends- enjoyed taking apart the timepieces and putting them back together, figuring out how they tick and making them run smoother, only using her powers on hard-to-reach gears and miniscule screws. Joyce wasn’t so sure how well Jane would adapt to living in the outside world, but she was glad the telepathic girl had found a useful skill to keep her sharp mind occupied.

In any case, Joyce was almost as fond of Jane as Hopper was, probably because, as much as she loved her boys, she wished she had a daughter. But acting as a surrogate mother to Jane would suit Joyce just fine.

And if she got to date Hopper as well- secretly, because Will doesn’t need to know everything about her social life- then that was just an added bonus.

And after all she’d gone through, she definitely deserved a bonus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike remembered a lot about the day he punched Troy in the face.

He remembered waking up, content after an evening spent with Will. He remembered getting ready for school, eating breakfast with his family- Nancy was long gone for college, and Holly was finally old enough to carry on conversations about things that weren’t dolls and food- and leaving, taking his mother’s old station wagon. He remembered picking up El, who still couldn’t drive because Hopper was afraid her road rage would end up with everyone’s windows in a quarter mile blown in, and Dustin, whose car inexplicably broke down every other week. He remembered parking in the school lot, glancing over at the usual hangout spot- Max was already there, Zoomer that she is, waiting for the rest of them- but mostly Lucas- to show up. Mike remembered talking with everyone for a few minutes as Lucas and Will showed up, Will a lot more talkative than usual, if a few sentences can be counted as ‘talkative’. He remembered leaving once the first bell had rung, followed closely by Will.

And then he remembered seeing Troy, who was watching the pair smugly. He remembered Will tensing up next to him, saw a muscle in the smaller boy’s jaw twitch. But Mike was a gangly, nerdy social reject, and he knew better than to engage with Troy, so he just steered Will away, hell bent on not confronting that asshole.

Until Troy decided to engage with them.

“Hey, fairy fag! Finally decide to kiss the frog?”

It was so stupid. So dumb. Mike wasn’t even sure he really understood what Troy meant. Nevertheless, Will had stiffened next to him, shaking imperceptibly. Before Will could say anything, though, Mike said, “Go to class, Will.”

Will protested, looking scared, maybe, but also extremely defiant. “ _Do not engage_ ,” he whispered, mirroring Mike’s earlier thoughts.

But Mike wasn’t going to stand by and let his best friend take any more shit. “Just go. Don’t worr-“

“I don’t need you fighting my battles, Mike,” Will interrupted, indignant. Definitely more defiant than scared.

Mike sighed, warring between his own wants and Will’s. He bit his lip, then nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

Will nodded back, continuing to walk to his next class, the only hint that he had heard Troy’s taunt in the tension of his shoulders. Mike went to follow, trying to put Troy out of his mind, but failing, especially when the bully decided to speak up once again.

“Funny. I knew Will was a faggot, but I didn’t think he was a pussy too. You’d think he’d have courage after dying and-“

Mike had rushed at Troy, faster than Will could retaliate, and pushed him up against a locker, hands on his shoulders. He knew from Troy’s surprised but smug expression that this was what he’d wanted, to get a rise out of him, but Mike didn’t care. He bared his teeth at Troy and asked, “What did you say?”

Troy laughed, before pushing Mike back easily- though, to his credit, Mike did not fall. “That was quite a heroic move you pulled yesterday. You think you’re a knight or something? Defending your fag friend’s honor?”

Mike clenched his fists, aware of Will in his peripheral vision, most likely disappointed in Mike for jumping to his defense. “How about you shut the fuck up?”

“What, you don’t like me calling Will a fag? Cause that’s what he is. A boy-fucking, fairy-”

That’s about the time when Mike swung at Troy, his fist connecting with his cheek, the force pushing Troy back a little. The bully, who seemed more or less undaunted by the bruise already forming on his face, looked with surprise up at Mike, who was breathing hard, fists clenched. They stood there in stalemate for a second, staring each other down, before Troy lunged at Mike, and they both went down, throwing punches at each other, Mike less successfully doing so. It wasn’t long before a teacher arrived on the scene, managing to pull the two apart.

Which was when Mike ended up in the principal’s office, an ice pack in one hand, his mother, who looked about as disappointed as possible- though he didn’t know when she had earned the right to be disappointed in him at all- sitting next to him. Principal Murphy had been going on about a lot of things- self-discipline, recent bad behavior, suspension- but Mike was zoning her out, holding the ice pack against his throbbing head and nose and eye. He was pretty sure he looked terrible, if what he’d seen of Troy’s own face was anything to go by, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about. He was thinking about Will, who he hadn’t seen since they’d pulled him away from Troy and to the office. He wasn’t concerned about his suspension, or that Troy would most likely enact revenge. He was too busy worrying over how Will would react, now that Mike had so easily gone against what Will wanted. Had he ruined their rebuilding friendship so quickly? Would he go back to a year of Silent Will?

Whether or not Will would condemn him, he couldn’t wait to get out of that office and find out.

“Mr. Wheeler?” the principal asked, her stern gaze softening.

“Huh?” It was obvious he hadn’t been listening.

The principal sighed. “Mike, I know you’re a good kid, but since you were the one to initiate the fight, we have to suspend you. I just want to know what made you so belligerent.”

Mrs. Wheeler nodded, giving Mike a hard glare. “My son has never been one for fighting.”

“Right. He has a past record of poor attendance, and his grades have fluctuated periodically, but he has had no altercations before now. Which makes me wonder what changed. What caused you to attack Troy, Mr. Wheeler?”

Mike chewed his lip, considering the question, because he didn’t want to implicate Will in any way. “Troy was harassing my friend. I had to defend him.”

“Harassing?”

“Verbally.” At his mom’s pointed look, Mike added, “Ma’am.”

“Who was he harassing?” As she asked this, Mike could tell she had a pretty good idea. After all, everyone in Hawkins knew about Will

Mike looked away. “I’d rather not say.”

“Mr. Wheeler, we would just like to understand the situation so that future incidents may be prevented. Punching someone will not solve the problem. You can always come to a teacher-“

“Do you think we haven’t tried?” Mike couldn’t help but blurt out, suddenly angry. His mother looked downright alarmed, but at the moment she could have turned into a giraffe and he wouldn’t have cared. “You think the teachers in this school don’t know exactly what goes on between the kids? You think we haven’t _told_ people before? No one gives a shit.”

“ _Mike_ ,” Mrs. Wheeler practically hissed.

“Sorry.” Mike realized he had all but jumped out of his chair, and he slowly sat back down. “But the teachers know, and they haven’t done anything. Telling adults never solves the problem.”

The principal looked about as shocked as Mike’s mother did at the outburst. When Mike had finished, she cleared her throat, nervously tidying the papers on her desk. “You would be surprised, Mr. Wheeler, by what we can do, now that this problem has been made clear to us.” She looked Mike dead in the eye, a power play, because she knew Mike wouldn’t be able to hold her gaze. “And you will be an adult soon. I suggest you revise your less-than-positive viewpoint on them.”

Mike gripped the arms of his chair, studying the detail in the wood panelling of the principal’s desk. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied weakly, mostly for his mother’s benefit.

“You may be dismissed. I hope to be seeing you back at school in four days.”

Mike nearly sighed in relief, hopping out of his chair and out the door, hoping to find out where Will might be. Which class was he in right now? He started down the hall-

“Michael Wheeler, where do you think you’re going?” His mother’s hand was planted firmly on his upper arm.

He shrugged. “I was just going to go find Will-“

“We’re going home, young man. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“But I need to tell him-“

“You can talk to him when you aren’t grounded.” Mrs. Wheeler had the upper hand for once in this parenting charade.

“ _Grounded_?”

“For a week. The school may give you suspension days, but you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you use them as vacation days.”

So _now_ she decides to try out parenting. Could she have picked a worse time? “I can’t even see my friends? We have D &D nights on Thursday.”

“You should have considered that before you punched a fellow classmate.”

“ _Ughhhh_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven’t updated in a while school is a mess and i’ve been busy and distracted.  
> anyways i hope you enjoyed this chapter. feedback is appreciated.


	5. Walkie Talkie Confessionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will have a minor argument, but make it up to each other, all over a walkie talkie.

Mrs. Wheeler had enough foresight to take Mike’s walkie-talkie away before confining him to his room, but that didn’t stop Mike from fishing the spare emergency one out from under his bed. It was his older model, and a little dysfunctional, but it could get a signal out on a good day. When he was sure his mom was done checking on him and berating him, he clicked it on, quietly saying into it, “This is Mike. I have been put under house arrest. Anyone there? Over.”

Static answered back to him. He checked if he was on the right channel, praying that the walkie’s signal was getting through to someone. Especially a certain someone. “This is Mike,” he repeated. “I’m under house arrest now. Over.”

A few more seconds of white noise, in which he contemplated just throwing the walkie in a trash bin, before he heard the static pick up and a tinny voice say, “Hey, Mike. It’s Will. Over.”

Mike breathed out a sigh of relief, even as dread filled him. He couldn’t tell from Will’s tone of voice whether he was angry or not. “Um… hey. I got suspended. For, you know, punching Troy… over.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet. Well, it was always quiet, but it still worried Mike. Was Will reluctant to talk to him? “I was there. Over.”

“And I’m under house arrest for a while. Over.”

“I know,” he repeated. “I tried to come see you, but your mom wouldn’t let me in. Over.”

“You did?” Mike tried to control the enthusiasm in his tone- he had to keep his voice from getting too loud. Did this mean Will wasn’t mad at him? “I’m gonna try to sneak out for D&D night. We’ll have to do it at someone else’s house. Maybe Lucas? Over.”

“Maybe. I’ll call him and ask in a second.” He paused, the static filling the silence, and Mike waited for his ‘over’. “Mike… you didn’t have to stand up for me. I can defend myself. Over.”

“Defend yourself? By letting Troy get away with saying whatever he wants to you? Nothing’s going to change if you keep doing the same thing and keep letting him win.” Mike hated the accusatory tone in his voice. He didn’t want to reprimand Will. He really didn’t. “Over.”

The line went dead. Mike was terrified he’d gone too far, overstepped some boundary between them. Finally, the static picked up again and Will replied, “Because retaliating against him the first time worked out so well. I wasn’t there, but I know the story. You used El to make him pee, and then suddenly he’s threatening you with a knife, forcing you to jump off a cliff.” Mike winced, remembering the fear pounding through his veins that day, the adrenaline rush leaving him as he clung onto Dustin and El, thinking _I almost died. I could have died._ Though now, almost dying had become a constant in his life. “Fighting back only gets their attention more. We don’t need to fight to win. We win by not letting them hurt us. Over.”

Mike clenched the walkie talkie with both hands, careful not to let the volume of his voice ratchet up too much. “But it does hurt you, doesn’t it? The taunts, the name-calling, it gets to you. You can’t win if it hurts. Over.”

“I can handle it. I know how to handle it on my own. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past year, without you? I didn’t need you defending me then, and I still don’t now. Over.”

“I’m just trying to be a good friend, Will.” Mike’s voice cracked, as the frustration and desperation in his voice outrun the whisper. “I haven’t been a good friend to you in so long. I don’t want to ruin this. Over.”

“You don’t understand how much you’ve already ruined everything.” Will’s voice was harsh and loud, and it made Mike flinch. “I mean… sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t…” The worst part about using the walkies was that you had to finish the sentence, so that you could say ‘over’ and let the other person stumble across their broken words for a while. “You didn’t ruin anything. Over.”

Mike breathed out hard, thinking over what to say. _I ruined everything. Is that what he thinks?_ “What did I ruin, Will?” He held in the rest of his questions. Those could wait. “Over.”

“ _M_ _ike_. I didn’t mean to say that. Over.”

“Clearly, you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. What do you mean, I ruined everything? Over.”

A long pause, as Will floundered for something to say. Something to get him out of the hole he’d dug himself. Because, truly, he didn’t blame Mike for this. If anyone, he blamed himself. But he couldn’t explain that to Mike, couldn’t explain all the time he’s spent hating himself. “I didn’t… mean to sound ungrateful. I’m glad you saved me. I’m glad someone had enough strength in them to care about me. But, really, I didn’t need it… over.”

Mike held the walkie talkie away from his ear, staring at it in mild disbelief. Then he brought it back to his face, whispering intently into it. “Listen, Will. Because you don’t seem to get it. _Everyone around you cares about you_. Did you know that? We all care. Me, your friends, your mom, Jonathan, even Steve and Nancy and Hopper care about you. How could you not know that, when we tried to save you from the Upside-Down twice? Just because you’ve retreated from our help doesn’t mean it isn’t there. You just forgot how to ask for it. That’s all you have to do, is ask. Over.” He took a deep breath, tired out from his minuscule rant, and waited for Will’s reply.

When the reply came, Will’s voice was wavering, as if he were on the brink of tears. “There are things you don’t _understand_ , Mike, and it’s… it’s making this conversation so hard. But I’m going to try to open up. That’s what I said I would do, right? I promised I would try… but it’s going to take a while. I might never tell everything to you guys, but you have to trust that I’m doing my best, because this is hard for me right now. It’s just… really hard. Over.”

Mike unconsciously smiled at the walkie, surprised at his friend’s response. “I trust you, Will. I always have. Over.” _But when will you trust me?_

Another pause, presumably as Will processed what Mike had said. However, his response wasn’t an answer to Mike’s unspoken question. “I’ll contact you tomorrow about which house we’re meeting at for D&D, and I’ll help you sneak out then. Talk to you then. Over and out.” The line went dead, low static humming. Mike turned the old walkie off, saving what little battery it had left for tomorrow. After all, his only lifeline to the outside world, and to Will, was extremely important.

And as much as Will seemed to be opening up, he still had a long way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was shorter than usual. i was thinking of adding more to it but it's fine where it is. hopefully i'll start being able to update more frequently, what with school ending in a month or so. like always, thanks for reading.


	6. Near Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will decides to try to fulfill his promise to Mike, for what better way to repay him for standing up to Troy and getting suspended?

_ Tall, bent trees hover above, the shadows of their branches refracting the foggy half-light into strange shapes. Moss and mold creep up their craggly trunks, eating into the bark, making everything seem to shrink in on itself. Dead and decaying matter cover the forest floor, and float in the air, reduced to dust particles in the faltering wind that shakes no tree limbs. A creeping chill permeates the clearing, lining the hollows of the trees with frost. _

_ A young boy lies alone in the middle of this clearing, vines, both alive and dead, wrapping slowly around his frail, quivering frame. His breath and heartbeat slow, for he’s embraced this dark place, embraced these life-ending vines, embraced the sickness in the air as his own. He exhales, as the vines slowly creep, soon to cover any evidence that he was ever there. _

_ And then, the boy smiles, and that grin stretches too wide, splitting his face into halves- no, into quarters- as the monsters within consume the boy faster than the monsters without, and the monster shrieks, ear-splittingly high, its tongue lolling out of- _

Will jolts out of bed, suppressing a scream, as he always has to when waking from a nightmare. He’s drenched in sweat, clammy and cold from horror. On nights like these, when the moon is absent from the sky and the world outside the house is silent, he has to try even harder to convince himself he’s not in the Upside-Down, he’s back at home, he’s fine. It’s much more challenging convincing himself that these recurring nightmares aren’t warnings that the gate will open once again, that they are, in fact, nightmares, and not a bleak glimpse into the future. It’s especially hard to believe that when the nightmares start creeping into his conscious life, filling his vision with that horrid shadow-world.

But the worst, most disturbing part about the nightmares, especially the more recent ones, is always the end. Because, unlike the other nightmares, he isn’t being hunted by demogorgons.

He’s becoming one.

Will slips out of his bed, padding silently to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. A clock in the hallway informs him that it’s two in the morning. Great. No more sleep for him tonight. He lets the water run hot, the heat of it reminding him that he’s human, that the shadow that lived within him for a year was gone now, even if his bones felt eternally frigid. No more demogorgons in his stomach, no more spies in his mind. Just the cold.

He walked back to his room, careful not to wake up his mom. This was practically a nightly routine, so he’d mastered sneaking around the house this late- he knew where to walk to avoid the creaky floorboards. Before crawling back into bed, he grabs a sweater to wrap himself in. It’s never enough to keep him from shivering, but it makes him feel a little better anyways. Makes him feel more at home. Bundled up, he spends the next few hours tormented by his own mind, just waiting for the alarm to ring.

Five hours later, he slumps out of bed, putting on an artificial smile for his mother, who greeted him with the usual worried look as she made him breakfast. “Hey, honey.”

“Hi, mom,” Will mumbled, staring down at the toast and scrambled eggs Joyce put for him, a strange feeling clawing at his stomach- a guiltiness demanding his attention. He remembered his promise to Mike, his promise to try to open up, and said the first thing that came to his mind. “How’s work?”

Joyce blinked at her son, somewhat surprised by his sudden interest in her life. Was he concerned about her income, like Jonathan had been when choosing between colleges? Will still had another year, and he was such a bright student, but he could be thinking about it already. “It’s fine, Will. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Will nodded sheepishly, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Have you heard from Jonathan lately?”

Now Joyce was really confused. She couldn’t remember the last time Will had asked about Jonathan. Sure, they were about as close as two brothers could be, but Will had seemed so closed off recently. “He sent a few pictures, but not much else. He did call a few days ago.”

“What did he say? Is he doing okay?”

“He said he misses you, and that his classes are a struggle, but he seems to be having fun. I think he’s even made a few friends, though he won’t admit it.” Joyce smiled wistfully, thinking of the boy who, a few years ago, had prided himself on being the lonely weirdo of Hawkins High. She was glad the Harrington boy decided to literally knock some sense into her son and become something of a friend in the final semester of their senior year.

“I miss him, too.” Will put down the fork, having eaten more than he really wanted to, though still less than he should, and looked up at his mother, who ruffled his hair.

“He’s a call away, if you ever need him. But not right now, you need to get to school.”

Will nodded, grabbing his stuff and leaving the house, feeling more comfortable in his own body than he does most other days. He biked to school in a somewhat happier mood, until the realization hit him that Mike wouldn’t be there today, causing his heart to plummet. Not only would his best friend not be at school, but Troy would be more pissed than ever. It was a good thing the bully had been suspended as well, but that wouldn’t stop his goons from attacking Will every chance they got. Hopefully, Will would be able to avoid them the next few days, because he didn’t know how else to defend himself.

Apprehensive, he chains his bike up and heads toward the hangout spot, where his unsuspended friends wait, vying for details on yesterday’s fight. Will quietly gives them the details he knows, surprised that they hadn’t asked yesterday.

“If anyone tries to pull something today, just tell me,” Dustin said after Will’s story was over, crossing his arms. “I can handle them.”

El laughed, pushing Dustin aside. “You cannot handle them. Leave the mouthbreathers to me.”

“You’re not supposed to use your powers in public,  _ Jane _ ,” Dustin retorted, pushing her back. “At least my guns won’t get me hauled off by the government.”

“I’ll be  _ careful.  _ I’m not stupid,” El spat, the air around her crackling. A limb of the tree behind her began to tear off.

“Ladies, ladies,” Lucas interrupted, stepping between them. “We don’t need more party members suspended. Just let Max psychologically mess them up. She does it to me all the time.”

Max glared at her boyfriend. “What was that, stalker?”

Lucas blinked, before backtracking quickly. “I mean, uh… You’re scary in a badass way...?”

“Damn right I am,” she sniped, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

Will watched his friends’ exchange with mild surprise. He’d forgotten what it was like to be part of the party, to have all of his friends stand up for him. A cold voice in the back of his head whispered  _ You don’t deserve their help. They only pity you _ . He tried to push it away. “Thanks, guys. Hopefully they’ll leave me alone for a few days.”

“Just know we are here if you need help,” El said, wiping a trickle of blood from her nose. “If anything happens to you.”

Maybe this whole ‘trying’ thing wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe being worried over wasn’t the worst thing in the world. After all, Will had experienced far worst.

The bell rang, and slowly the party dispersed. Dustin followed Will to his locker, giving everyone what he thought to be threatening glares, though they came off as goofily adorable. However, whether they were threatened or just thought Dustin was weird, the students didn’t bother Will.

For the rest of the day, Will found himself followed by at least one of the party members between every class, keeping the bullies at bay with whatever tactics they deemed necessary, though it took a few minutes to convince El that her mind powers were not necessary. It was the first time in a long time that Will saw that what he had thought was “pity” was actually the concern and care that his friends had for him. He almost felt halfway normal by the end of the day, ready to accept the worry of others. He almost felt like maybe he wasn’t cursed.

Until reality reminded him just why he’d felt cursed in the first place.

“Byers!”

Will, who had only just stepped out the front doors, only thinking about going home, looked up to see James standing in front of him, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. “Don’t think I’ve backed off just cause you’re little gay friend punched Troy. We aren’t scared of him, and we’re not scared of your other queer friends either.”

“Just get out of my way, James.” Will sighed, trying to sidestep the bigger kid. There were still plenty of people leaving the school, and he knew that most of them were already watching, and most of them wouldn’t do a damn thing to help.

“Why? Got somewhere to be? Got a makeout session with Wheeler?” James uncrossed his arms, shoving Will back. The students around them widened into a circle, watching raptly, hoping for another fight. “He isn’t here to protect you now, is he?”

“Leave him alone!” Both boys’ heads turned towards El, who pushed her way through the ring of bystanders to stand in front of Will. “Do you remember me?”

James’ eyes widened, but he attempted to mask his fear with a smug grin. “Another weirdo comes to protect the faggot. I’m impressed he managed to find another friend willing to fight his battles.”

El took another step towards James, who likewise took a step back. “This is not a battle Will chose. It isn’t a battle at all. A battle should be challenging. Do you think Will is a challenge?”

“N-no! He’s a weak queer.” James’ tough demeanor was quickly beginning to crumble.

“What about me? Would you battle me?”

James shook his head. “I wouldn’t fight a g-girl.”

“Then I guess you’re done here.” El gave him a sickly sweet smile. “Because if you want to hurt Will, you’d have to fight me first.”

James glanced behind him, at the circle of snickering onlookers, before taking a few more steps back. “This isn’t over, Byers! I’ll get you when you don’t have stupid friends to protect you!” Then he turned and pushed through the bystanders. With the fight over before it began, the students walked away, muttering their slight disapproval at not having witnessed a fight.

El turned to Will, her dark, intense eyes studying his face. “Are you okay?”

Will wanted to say he was, wanted to say he appreciated being protected, but all he could think about was James’ last remark. He slowly shook his head. “It’s never going to end, El. They won’t stop. They’ll keep calling me queer and taking every chance to humiliate and hurt me. On top of all the Upside-Down shit, it feels like the whole world is out to get me. Like I’m cursed.” He decided not to mention his increasingly worrying nightmares. He would hide parts of himself away where no friend could see it.

“No.” El put both of her hands on Will’s shoulders. “You are not cursed. You have us. And Mike. We are not out to get you.”

Wil bit his lip at the thought of Mike, at the feelings bubbling in his chest that he wished he could expunge. “You will be. You’ll all realize you made a mistake being friends with me. It’s only a matter of time.”

El frowned, her hands curling into the fabric of Will’s shirt. “We have all fought literal monsters for you, Will, and none of us regret it. Not now, not ever. That is how important you are to us.”

“What if one of you got seriously hurt because of me? Would you stick by me if Hopper or Mike died-”

“Stop.” El didn’t need to yell the word- her voice was intimidating enough when she was serious. “None of this was your fault. And if someone got hurt, that wouldn’t be your fault, either. Stop blaming yourself for things out of your control.”

Will did have to shout to get his point across. “That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? You’re the mage; you’re always in control with your mind powers. And everyone else knows how to handle a tough situation. You don’t know what it’s like to be out of control, to be powerless to stop anything. To watch everyone else handle the shit you couldn’t handle yourself. I’m so  _ sick  _ of it. Just let me fix my own fucking problems and deal with your own.” He pulled away from El and stormed off, practically running to his bike. El watched him leave, contemplating whether to stop his bike telekinetically or just leave him be. She opted for the latter, reluctantly respecting his wishes.

Just like that, all the progress Will had made towards accepting his friends and family’s concern disappeared. He’d forgotten about trying, about how good it felt to have a support system and to be loved by others. Leaving any feeling of belonging behind, Will biked home, returning to the comforting shell that was complacency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the updates have been so sporadic! i've felt more and more unmotivated lately to continue this, which usually happens when i work on something like this for too long. i'll try to have the next chapter out soon but my summer is about to be busy so i'm not making any promises.


End file.
